What the Basketball Shot Clock Taught Me About Life

*

Three days ago I wrote a letter to the local newspaper. I was proud of the message. It described my feelings and thinking about a town controversy. This dispatch could play a small part in moving decision-makers toward the right outcome. But should I send it to the editor?

Because I mentioned a friend by name in the letter, I sent him a copy asking whether it was OK to make it public. A day later, I received his reply. He thanked me for being sensitive to his position, stated that I did not need his permission to publish the letter, and asked if we could discuss the pros and cons of this act. Here is my reply.

I’ve thought more and decided I don’t want to write anything public regarding this situation. It’s always good to let time pass. I can’t add anything other than my frustration. That’s heat and not light.

Too often, I’m more of a heat than a light person. My decisions can come before the thoughtful part of my brain has time to kick in. I imperfectly manage this tendency by building pauses into my life. Asking my friend for permission to publish a letter that refers to a decision he made in a positive light was not only the right thing. It gave my brain time to reflect. This pause habit came from an unusual source.

I ran the men’s and women’s basketball shot clock for the local college for 20 years. Basketball rules require teams to launch a shot within 30 seconds each time they possess the ball. In the photo above, the shot clock shows eight seconds.

Shot clock officials sit at a table on the sideline halfway between the two basketball hoops. The shot clock is reset with a click of their index fingers. In my first season, I clicked the reset button too fast. That’s easy to do when the ball is tipped around close to the basket. During that first season, one referee gave me this invaluable piece of advice: when in doubt, pause for one second by saying, “One hundred one.”

Accordingly, asking my friend for permission came from this count one-hundred-one mantra. When I pause, I give the frontal lobe part of my brain time to work its magic. It’s the thinking part of the brain, weighing pros and cons. Of course, designating part of the brain as thinking needs to be more complex. For a clear explanation of how the human brain blends thought and emotion, read Social Psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s The Happiness Hypothesis.

Here’s a way I visualize this pause process. The photo below shows the water filter under our kitchen sink.

The unfiltered water representing all the world throws at me each day comes into the filter through the hose on the left. The filter, my pause strategy, cleans out the contaminants or decisions made in haste. The clean water, more thoughtful decisions, are sent through the top hose into a faucet.

The shot clock metaphor and water filter image help cue me to manage my propensity to act too quickly.

Those around my age of 73 might remember the Coca-Cola ad, “The Pause that Refreshes.” The pause that enlightens me has been added to my mental arsenal.

We all need strategies to respond to those vexing situations life confronts us with daily. Haidt defines emotional intelligence as the “ability to understand and regulate one’s feelings and desires.”

The shot clock and water filter have helped my emotional IQ tick upward a point or two.